Wizarding mistakes
by La.Regina.Di.Morte
Summary: HIATUS (see profile) Not everyone is flawless, even the best of wizards make mistakes. oneshots
1. Chapter 1

A weird man, wearing only black , and a deep scowl, rang our doorbell

Ok, this just popped into my head….

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A weird man, wearing only black, and a deep scowl, rang our doorbell.

Of course I opened the door, my innocent brown eyes wide as I took in his clothing, he was wearing a robe, no, not a bathrobe, but a robe that you see in fairy tales and medieval themes, also, he wore a cloak.

Naturally, I gaped, though I quickly gathered my wits and I questioned him, with my sweet innocent voice

"What d'ja want?"

Somehow this only made the mans scowl even deeper.

"I am Professor Snape, and I am here to give you your Hogwarts letter" He said, his cold voice seemingly colder than it actually was.

"Oh" I said, intelligently, looking dumbly around me, "come in".

I led him to the living room, where my parents where conveniently sitting, drinking thee.

The Snape man sat down on his offered chair, and handed me a letter made out of parchment.

Curiously I opened it, reading the first parchment that fell into my hands, somehow that turned out to be the supplies list.

"Prove it" where the first words that escaped my lips

Snape took out a slender stick and transfigured the wooden fruit basket into a tin one, never mind that it was a family heirloom

"Surely, I can't be a Witch" I exclaimed, flicking a stray strand of brown hair over my shoulder

"Didn't anything mysteriously happen when you where sad or angry?" Snape asked.

I thought

And thought some more

"Well" I finally said "No" I looked up, meeting the mans eyes "Not really, unless you mean the incident that the TV worked it again"

The man just shook his head

Finally noticing the second part of the letter I read it "Uhmm" I said, uncertainly "My name is not Granger, she lives next door"

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Please review! Then I might think of making others Wizarding mistakes


	2. Nr 4 privet drive

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so _wild_ — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash cans lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir"

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his fore head they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lighting.

"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes" said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.

"Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house

"Could I — Could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it — Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out."

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

The next morning Harry Potter would be awoken by the cooing of Mrs Smith who had just found him on her doorstep of Nr. 3 privet drive.

Dumbledore would notice his mistake only years later, when the Letter of Harry Potter did not arrive, but one Jonas Smith did.


End file.
